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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087988">Self-Collapse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningAngel/pseuds/EveningAngel'>EveningAngel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>20th Century CE RPF, Historical Criminals RPF, My Friend Dahmer (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 02:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningAngel/pseuds/EveningAngel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything went better than expected. So, Des did the most sensible thing, which was to expect an unpleasant surprise was about to arrive any moment now. He glanced over at Jeff, waiting, telling himself the hollow feeling in his stomach wasn’t directionless dread.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeffrey Dahmer/Dennis Nilsen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Refraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He closed the door behind himself, quickly regretting he hadn’t put the puppy down on the floor before doing so; now having to coordinate carrying the mass of small fidgeting dog in his arms while also paying attention to the door: An unwelcome challenge. He wasn’t quite done turning the key in the lock, when he had already realized he (they. The dog did belong to him now.) wasn’t alone at home, the sight of Jeff’s keys laying on its place on the small table next to the door a clear indication. </p><p>“I’m back.”</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>If this had been a carefully constructed narrative, the dog would now have given a sound of recognition as well. But as this was no conveniently written sitcom, the animal stayed silent, letting her eyes wander through the unfamiliar space, ears alert, listening. </p><p>Listening to the steps coming closer. “Listen. There’s still so much leftovers from yesterday, so, if that’s alright for you I thought I just heat them up and…” Jeff came to a halt, staring in surprise at the puppy still being held in Des’ arm. </p><p>“Leftovers are fine.” Des looked at the puppy, then at Jeff. “This small lady here is Killy. She’s ours now. I told you about this colleague at work whose dog got puppies, right? So I thought, why not get one for ourselves.” Emphasizing his point, he put her down on the ground, carefully, as to not startle her, feeling the weight of Jeff’s stare at him but not meeting his eyes. </p><p>“A dog…”</p><p>Yes, a dog indeed. Masterfully deduced. A dog and Des intended to keep her. He hadn’t even realized how much he had missed having one around until Cindy from accounting had continued to go on during breaks about her own mutt, about the litter of puppies that had just arrived and oh, didn’t you want to see the pictures she had taken of them? Before you’d have a chance to answer she already would hold you the screen of her phone under your nose, continuing with her monologue. </p><p>Des hadn’t exactly wanted to listen, but Cindy was the curious kind of person who would shove pictures of her pets into other people’s faces, no matter if they agreed with it or not. In her defense, at least Des had to give it to her that she took away revenue from the people in the office who would insist to show you most recent pictures of their children, no matter if you cared to see them or not. (For some reason, those kinds always managed to pick the people least interested being forced to see pictures of some random foreign offspring.) And if Des had a say in it, getting confronted with photos of a pet making a funny expression while eating its food was way preferable than having to feign interest in the same scenario featuring a random small human. So despite everything Cindy deserved the title of being the lesser annoyance. </p><p>“I told you about Cindy, right? Her dog had puppies, recently.”</p><p>“Oh yes, Cindy, sure. I remember.” Jeff still had sounded at loss, nothing in his voice nor face giving away how he felt about the dog. </p><p>A hollow feeling arrived in Des’ stomach, a weird mixture of annoyance and the first traces of a freshly forming anger. He would complain about it, wouldn’t he. Jeff would just go and complain about it. Just like he always seemed to find a way to see issues in places where there were none. Just like he apparently loved to assume that a good chunk of Des’ motivations were originated in a place of malice. </p><p>For some reason people loved to assume the worst intentions when it came to Des and he had been a naïve idiot to assume this had a chance to change for once. Encountering someone who shared certain similarities with you didn’t change the fact Des had proven so many times to lack the fundamental ability to fit in somewhere, anywhere. Lacked the ability to belong. </p><p>He couldn’t even get something as banal as a pet dog without causing drama and getting accusations, couldn’t he? Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure if Jeff liked dogs. (Didn’t everyone love dogs? How couldn’t you love them? A proper pet dog was one of the few things worthy to stay around for in this misery.) Jeff had once or twice mentioned some childhood dog, but now he was thinking about it, Des couldn’t remember exactly if he had mentioned anything that had indicated he had harbored affection towards the animal in question. Or maybe even if he had liked said dog, maybe it was one of those far away memories you had no intention repeating, no matter the sentiment attached to it. (Alright, maybe he should have told Jeff that he had planned to get a puppy before arriving with one. But that was not the point. That was not the point.)</p><p>“It’s me who wanted to have Killy, so I’m going to be the one who will be going on walks with her and everything. You won’t need to deal with these things. It’s fine like this, right?” The sentiment had meant to be a reassurance, maybe even an appeasement, so hearing the deep annoyance in his own voice Des got almost shocked by it himself. He hadn’t meant to sound annoyed. But the seething disappointment in his stomach was already solidifying and despite trying to appear indifferent his voice had refused to wear a lighter sound. </p><p>But if Jeff had picked up any of that hostility, he didn’t show it. His attention was all caught by the dog, leaning down to greet it. “So, her name is Killy then?”, he asked, holding out his hand towards the puppy, so it could sniff it, the universally accepted gesture to indicate you were trying to befriend a dog. </p><p>Des folded his arms in front of his chest. “Killy, yes. A girl.”</p><p>The aimless sniffing and wandering of the dog stopped. It walked into Jeff’s direction, tentatively beginning to wag its tail. </p><p>Everything went better than expected. So, Des did the most sensible thing, which was to expect an unpleasant surprise was about to arrive any moment now. He glanced over at Jeff, waiting, telling himself the hollow feeling in his stomach wasn’t directionless dread.</p><p>The dog held still, letting her head get patted with a patience surprising in its stability. “Good little dog”, Jeff said, showing an absentminded smile while giving the puppy more attention. Confronted with the sight, Des realized that this was a thing Jeff wasn’t doing these days often, showing a smile. Or maybe he had never been one to smile often, now that he was thinking about it, he had to admit that he couldn’t really remember. Until this moment this question had never appeared to be an aspect of importance. </p><p>Realizing he was staring, Des turned his head to the side, forcing himself to stop folding his arms in front of his chest. Maybe for the moment things were okay enough, but the circumstances they were finding themselves stuck in would eventually find a way to construct more unpleasant surprises. They always did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ignite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time you saw Daria from the giftshop today was during coffee break. You had just finished preparing your coffee (one sugar, no milk) when she entered the room, a small gleam of recognition flaring up in her eyes that wasn’t quite a smile. </p><p>She wasn’t quite smiling either when she stepped closer to the coffee machine, gesturing at it: “Jeff? Is there still some in there?”</p><p>You nodded, the movement less caused by the need to confirm her question than by the slight unease settling in when you found yourself in company in the break room that was bigger than zero, but smaller than two: “Should be enough for another cup. Martha made an entire can earlier, I think.”</p><p>“Bless Martha”, Daria said, pouring herself out a cup, not bothering to suppress a small sigh. </p><p>“Stressful day?”</p><p>“You have no idea.” She paused, opening the fridge the get out the pack of milk (no sugar, some milk for her). “We just had a school class being allowed to look for souvenirs before they left. Some clearly saved their pocket money for today.”</p><p>“Grad schoolers?”</p><p>“Third grade or something.”</p><p>“Then I might have an idea. Must be the ones we had in the east wing.”</p><p>Daria’s eyes widened in understanding. Silently she took another sip. </p><p>The clarification had been needed. After all, just because Daria saw some visitors in the gift shop didn’t mean they were the same people you had encountered on your shift. The museum had two wings. The east wing: natural history. The west wing: anthropology. And it changed on a seemingly random basis where you’d had your shifts as a museum guard. And if you had the night shifts you needed to patrol both places at a time. Having a lot of night shifts in a row was exhausting, but the nice things about them were that there were no overexcited school classes tempted to touch the expositions. </p><p>“They tried to pet the iguanodon. Several times.” Well, the life-sized model of an iguanodon, not a real one, obviously, but the effect was the same: Visitors weren’t supposed to touch the thing. They weren’t and the low barrier around it had not much of an effect: The color of the model was already crumbling off around its snout, implicating the places people were most likely to touch. </p><p>Daria started looking thoughtful: “So, they were there for the dinosaurs, huh? Explains why they bought almost all of our dinosaur eggs. We’re even almost out of stock by now.”</p><p>“Dinosaur eggs?”</p><p>She nodded, turning her head and looking up to you. “You know, those plastic eggs. Kids’ toys. You open them and then there’s a plastic figurine of a dinosaur in there. But which dinosaur it will be is going to be is a surprise.”</p><p>“I see.” You did. Too clearly. Probably every child buying those would want a T-rex or whatever dinosaur was supposed to be coolest at the moment, urging their parents to buy another one if it didn’t turn out to be one. You tried taking a sip of your coffee, tentatively, in case it was still hot. That was the advantage of pouring milk into coffee, like Daria did, the stuff cooled down everything and one could drink instantly. But you didn’t like the rancid smell that came with putting milk into your coffee, had in the meanwhile grown sensitive to it, and so you stayed with your sugar and the additional time hot coffee needed to cool down to reach drinkable temperature. </p><p>“Well, dinosaur merchandise sells well in general. Children are just fascinated with them, I guess”, Daria added, a smile showing up on her face that looked slightly embarrassed, as if she felt she was under the obligation to justify the popularity of dinosaurs amongst third graders. </p><p>You wouldn’t go so far as to say that her smiles weren’t not coming from a genuine place, but sometimes they did look very consciously put into place. You could tell because you did that sometimes too, putting on a carefully constructed smile when trying to appease someone, or just because sometimes it was the quickest way to signal that everything was fine (regardless if it was or not) and to finally be left alone. </p><p>You did it less at work, now that you felt you’ve started to get to know everyone a bit better. And you tried to avoid doing it with Dennis completely; if he suspected you were trying to hide something from him he more often than not worked himself into a fit of annoyance and the tension following was never worth it. </p><p>“Children are. Fascinated with them, I mean. They would go and try to climb on the triceratops we have in the big hall if no one was around looking, I’m certain.” You had no idea why you had just said that. Maybe the possibility of intimidating Daria for no good reason was beginning to feel upsetting. After all it was not like you had a problem with her, actually, when it came to fellow work colleagues she was among those you liked best. </p><p>“Well, those triceratops are cool too, after all”, she said, finally no longer sounding this tense. Turning her head to take another sip of coffee, her bangs fell into her face, shielding her eyes away from view. Daria had very straight, very carefully cut bangs, worn in a style that looked oddly outdated and ageless at the same time. </p><p>The clock hanging on the wall was loudly ticking, insisting to sharply count the seconds and then to announce another minute having passed with a sound much deeper. </p><p>Daria had come into the break room later than you, but the two of you finished your coffees almost at the same time anyway, with you having to wait for it to cool down longer. (Sitting next to each other, you could even slightly smell the milk in her coffee and got convinced once again that avoiding to drink it that way was the right decision; the heavy smell started to feel repulsive.)</p><p>You went up the stairs of the east wing again, continuing your round on the floor number four: Insects. And entire room full of them, carefully pinned on needles and put behind glass. Bees, wasps, different sorts of flies. And butterflies. Rows and rows of butterflies in various sizes, in the most vibrant colors imaginable. Arranged to build an appealing picture in death, their colors harmoniously blending into each other, a colorful canvas that from the distance wasn’t telling anything about its decaying origin. </p><p>The insect room had been renovated recently, its stark white walls a contrast to how the rooms in this old building were showing their actual age in the shape of their architecture. </p><p>Your sight got stuck at the wall consisting of nothing but pinned butterflies and the thought entered your mind that alone for the insect room you’d like to bring Dennis over here some time. If you were honest, you didn’t really liked the thought of mixing your job with your private life, but maybe there would come along an opportunity for it anyway, eventually. Because you’d really love to show Dennis the wall with the pinned butterflies, if nothing else. </p><p>You continued your round, the entire floor silent in comparison with how lively it had been when the school class from earlier still had been in there. Now the only people in sight were an elderly couple touring the room with the fossilized crustaceans, stopping in front of every exhibit to carefully read the metal shields with the descriptions of the objects. Just like Daria they both had two horns growing at the side of their head. And just as with Daria and the other horned people in this city you were not able to figure out what set them apart from the people living here not having any horns. It seemed to be a random quirk of aesthetics, nothing more, nothing less. Since you had arrived in this place (and your must have arrived here since some time) you had never been able to figure out the deal with the horns, so eventually you just stopped thinking about it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Care Because You Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I feel like I don’t have anything to say. Or more, I feel like I have a pile of things to say, but are at loss of how I’m supposed to put them into words. </p><p>The puppy yapps, playfully biting into my hand. It’s the mild bite of a young dog having gotten a bit too lost in play, but it ends up hurting anyway. When I check the spot there are barely any pressure marks of the bite though, let alone a wound. </p><p>“No more biting, Killy.”</p><p>The puppy looks up at me with expectation, tail still wagging with joy. </p><p>I scratch the spot behind her ear. “No more biting.”</p><p>Killy points up her ears in concentration but I somehow doubt the point has gotten through to her. I sigh, continuing to pet her head, behind the ears, where the fur is fluffiest. She is still a puppy, so it’s barely her fault for not understanding yet. </p><p>It’s one thing failing to make a dog realize what you want them to tell. It’s another one altogether when the same thing keeps happening with a person you’d like to think you’ve grown close to. </p><p>I can forgive the dog. </p><p>Killy has grown tense before there’s even as much as a sound of the key getting turned in the lock of the front door. Wriggling out of my hold she storms towards the door, making overjoyed noises to greet Dennis’ arrival. </p><p>I’m not averse to the idea of having a puppy around, but it’s very apparent that Killy is Dennis’ dog. She grows gloomy when he’s absent for too long. And in return, when the dog is present, I sometimes see expressions on his face he doesn’t display under other circumstances. (Certainly not the range of emotion I’m able to be the cause of.) Absentminded smiles I haven’t seen in that shape before. Shades of affection solely reserved for the mutt. The kind of expressions you’d never be able to catch on camera if you’d try to. I feel I have little choice left than trying to memorize this specific expressions as detailed as I can, storing them away in a shadowy and safe corner of my mind. </p><p>It’s not until I have reached this very thought that I feel a gloomy shadow draping itself over my lungs, making it hard to breath. </p><p>A ghost of that dog-caused smile is still clinging to his face when he tears his attention away from the puppy, looking up at me. My face instantly freezes; I wasn’t expecting this. </p><p>The dog hasn’t been on her walk this evening yet. So we end up taking her out together. Even though it’s late in the evening the air still feels heavy from the day’s heat, carrying an oppressive humidity. </p><p>“I’m not even expecting much. I’m just saying if they constantly want us to go and catch files from the archive they should put a better effort into making it easily searchable. Even Cindy had to agree with this and that though… Jeff, are you listening?”</p><p>I turn my head, intending to look Dennis in the eyes but are getting blended by the setting sun instead, unable to see his features. His voice was enough though to indicate a mild annoyance. “Neither of you is responsible for keeping order in the archive though, right?” Dennis has been complaining about the issue the entire week, someone would have to be deaf at this point to have missed the broader strokes of the issue. </p><p>“No. But that doesn’t change anything about the fact the higher ups keep blaming our department when things go wrong.” His voice has grown irritated but the park we’re walking thorough isn’t full enough at this time of the day for it to attract attention. So I just let him vent. If he’s upset about stuff like this it’s usually best to just let him vent. </p><p>“Sounds annoying.”</p><p>“It’s a bloody hassle. The kind of thing a union should address: Taken we were in a civilized area where a thing like this would exist.” Dennis sighs, direction his attention at the dog he’s holding on the leash. </p><p>The sun is still so overly bright that I can’t see his face, nor can I see what the dog is up to. All I see when turning my head is a dazzling orange erasing my sight, leaving nothing but the first traces of an incoming headache. </p><p>Despite of this I don’t feel unhappy. Getting a headache because of air too humid and a sun too bright, it’s the kind of thing that can happen when moving around outside. A sign that you are able to move around in the outside, the confirmation of some part of basic freedom you take for granted until it’s gone. Much preferable to being confined to a small room all day, alone, with nothing but yourself as a company. Incoming headache or not, it is better being forced to go outside for the dog’s sake, together. </p><p>It’s a sentiment I feel like sharing with him, but I wouldn’t even know how to start. I would have to somehow explain there’s be a time I wasn’t able to go outside and that would only lead to another string of uncomfortable questions attached. </p><p>I don’t talk about my time before I arrived in this city and Dennis never asks about it. </p><p>The puppy comes to a halt, sniffing some invisible distraction located on the grass. </p><p>I can’t help but speculate out loud: “I wonder what keeps distracting her?”</p><p>Dennis stares straight ahead, towards the small group of trees that in the meanwhile are hiding the sun and throwing a shadow on his face, showing that his features are lost in thought. He didn’t seem to have heard a single word I just said. </p><p>“Dennis? What do you think she might be finding here?”</p><p>That finally got his attention. His eyes widen in realization, then he turns towards me: “Other dogs, I guess?”</p><p>“Or maybe a cat.”</p><p>“Are there that many cats allowed to go outside in this area? More likely a squirrel.”</p><p>Would explain the critical expression on the dog’s face. “Squirrel it might be.”</p><p>“I’m having a hunch”, he says, nodding sharply before a dense shadow settles over his eyes. “And Jeff? It’s Des, not Dennis. I’ve told you before.” He makes no attempt to hide the hurt in his voice.</p><p>He has told me. Several times. I have no idea why I keep forgetting it. Feeling my face turn uncomfortably hot I mutter an apology. </p><p>The shadows around us grow denser, an indication the sun is planning to leave this day now for good. </p><p>By the time we return home again my head is throbbing in pain. Not due to a headache though: My ear started acting up, remains of a long forgotten injury insisting to make their presence known. I have every intention to keep quiet about the matter but Dennis somehow ends up noticing anyway and starts acting up a fuss about it. I’m not sure what to feel about any of this but decide to appreciate the sentiment. </p><p>If things get better but leave a scar behind, there’s not much to be done about that. </p><p>Des knows that from time to time I’m having issues with my ear due to an old injury, but I never told him what had caused it. Nor do I have any plans to change that: Talking despite knowing better is nothing but mere idiocy. After all just because the sun was around to blind you today doesn’t mean you can take for granted that it will feel like rising again tomorrow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter is going to be a flashback.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Destinations (Adjusted Half a Year Ago)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Today’s chapter: A flashback.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was one time during the year he never was looking forward having to go to work, and that were the odd few days trapped between Christmas and New Year. That time was a magnet for people who were not even considering going to a museum during the rest of the year, their decision to visit motivated by the restless directionless the empty time before New Year brought: The suddenly installing pressure of the realization all the plans to do more thoughtful activities during the year had once again ended up being an empty promise. So, to a nearby museum in town they went, bringing along their entire family and whoever it was who might have stayed with them during the holidays.</p>
<p>Sometimes those circumstances hadn’t much of an effect. But at other times the atmosphere in the entire building would build up into a dense soup of tension and annoyance that was located under a brittle layer of forced cheerfulness, the building blocks unhappy family dynamics had constructed over Christmas. Not even the high ceilings of the exposition rooms would offer enough space for this kind of mood to lessen.</p>
<p>He had seen Daria in the lobby, the exhausted shadows around her eyes an oddly harmonic resonance with how Jeff had felt the better part of this afternoon. They ended up nodding a wordless greeting at each other, both of their minds occupied with whatever task they needed to do next. In Daria’s case that probably meant selling more entry tickets or Dinosaur Eggs. In his case ensuring neither the Iguanodon nor the pinned butterflies were confronted with the assumption you needed not only your eyes but your hands too to see them. </p>
<p>“You know, it wasn’t even like any of today’s visitors had been rude exactly or anything. It was just so crowded. And loud”, Jeff said, filling in his boyfriend about today, glad to finally have an opportunity to vent. Yes, venting while eating dinner was preferable by far compared to being stuck in the museum, having to deal with the barely repressed tension that seemed to grow denser in every room with every passing day.  </p>
<p>His boyfriend nodded in agreement, readjusting his glasses before fixating a concentrated stare at Jeff. “That sounds really awful.”</p>
<p>“To be honest, it was”, Jeff admitted, unable to hide that he was feeling content his complaints had been met with understanding. It was one thing to deal with the occasional stressful times that for example the opening of a new exhibition would bring, but the time between Christmas and New Year was just weird. </p>
<p>“I’m not sad either the office is staying closed until after New Year.”</p>
<p>“I can’t blame you in the slightest”, Jeff sighed, taking another bite. He couldn’t blame him at all. </p>
<p>“Just a few more days and it’s New Year. Hang in there”, his boyfriend said, the matter of fact tone almost ending up concealing that the comment had been meant to be an encouraging one. </p>
<p>Almost. Jeff made an agreeing noise, not really knowing what to say but feeling the urge to show the sentiment had reached him. It was so seldom people saw it a worthwhile effort trying to encourage him or even cheer him up, so he wanted to show he didn’t take it for granted. Even though he was still too tired to think of saying anything more meaningful.</p>
<p>Jeff was holding his glass, taking a sip of the soda, when he got hit by the realization that he didn’t have a boyfriend. He wasn’t even seeing anyone at the moment. Let alone sharing his flat instead of living alone. </p>
<p>Slowly, very slowly he raised his gaze, looking at the person facing him at the table. As if he was in the danger of upsetting something uninvited should he lower his guard. But the person sitting across him showed no sign of realizing anything was off. The stranger just adjusted his glasses again, the movement letting a strand of his dark, thick hair fall in front of his face, hiding away eyes that were looking almost black in the artificial light the kitchen held during the night.</p>
<p>Was it normal for a person to have eyes this dark? It looked at odds with skin this pale. Artificial. Suspicious. More, could Jeff be sure whatever he was stuck with in this room with was actually human? It would not be unreasonable to assume the opposite, he decided, the shape of Daria’s horns appearing in front of his eyes, realizing he had never managed to find out what the exact deal was with the people who had horns. The stranger had no horns attached to his skull though, looked completely normal, so whatever the explanation was it had to be something else.</p>
<p>If whatever was sitting face to face with him should not be human after all, then it was doing an excellent job imitating one. Once they were finished eating he (it?) practically threw Jeff out of his own kitchen, claiming he’d be more in the way than a help with washing the dishes. </p>
<p>The audacity of the situation aside, Jeff didn’t complain. Instead he made sure to use the opportunity to get an overview of the situation. There were more subtle signs his place had changed compared to the way it was supposed to look in his memory. An additional coat hanging at the coat racket that hadn’t been there before. Shoes at the entrance that were very definitely not his. A second toothbrush at the sink it the bathroom. Half of his closet in the bedroom filled with clothes and belongings that hadn’t been there when he had left the flat this morning. </p>
<p>Those sights might have been unfamiliar but in an odd sense they didn’t feel foreign, not thoroughly so. More like circumstances he hadn’t been able to access beforehand but were now ready to get confronted. </p>
<p>He got out his phone, a dreading idea of what he might find on there already forming in a distant corner of his mind. The changes were subtle but left little room for misunderstanding. There hadn’t been an awful lot of pictures he had taken with his phone, but now there were additions, reaching back to a timeline of almost three years. Pictures of the stranger. Pictures of him and the stranger, together. (Not a stranger, a stranger, yes, but a stranger that at the same time was supposed to be his boyfriend.) </p>
<p>And standing among the few phone numbers added to his most dialed numbers (almost all of them work related) stood an entry he hadn’t seen before, simply titled “Des”. Des? Was that supposed to be short for Desmond then? A careful and quick look into the wallet placed in the pocket of the unfamiliar coat at the entrance clarified that it was supposed to be short for Dennis. </p>
<p>Seeing this he grimaced, forcing himself to stay quiet. A name that made no sense attached to a person he had never seen before, it wasn’t the first time something of that kind had happened to him in the five years he had been living in this place. But none of the former incidents could be placed on a scale this big, had carried consequences this big, he thought, starting to scroll through the pictures of his phone in an attempt to do something that at least felt productive. He came to a halt, not daring to move, fearing any wrong movement would chase away the realization forming in his head. He had been living in this town since five years. But for how many years had he been living in this place since five years? He kept staring at his phone, the model not new but not exactly outdated already either. Back in the day when he had arrived here, mobile phones still had used to be those really clunky ones barely anyone could afford, not the kind of sleek smartphone absolutely everyone seemed to carry around with them these days. </p>
<p>Since how many years had he been living in this place since five years?</p>
<p>He blinked rapidly, as if trying to chase the myriad of connected questions attached to that one away. That’s not what he had been worrying about right now. He had to focus. There were more pressing matters at hand he decided, continuing to have a closer look at the pictures on his phone. In them the stranger (Dennis) looked… normal enough. Annoyed or tired in some, absentminded in others, smiling and appearing in a good mood in some, just how people tended to look when they were more or less invested in getting their picture taken during a given moment. </p>
<p>But that alone didn’t mean much. That didn’t mean the stranger was as unaware about the situation as he pretended. It also meant it would not be a good idea to trust him. No, better treat him with caution for now. Jeff couldn’t even be sure the stranger was actually a fellow human. </p>
<p>But for the moment, for the moment the best course of action would be to behave as if everything was fine. As if he hadn’t realized something had shifted itself into confusion during the time he had left for work this morning and the time he had returned home again. </p>
<p>Pretending sounded easy enough for the moment as it was; until New Year he still needed to go to work every day. In execution the idea proved to be much more difficult though. Despite his efforts to show an unsuspicious front, Jeff caught himself staring and pondering for too long in moments he probably shouldn’t have. Was the way the stranger (Dennis) kept adjusting his glasses a tad bit too casual in execution? You had to pay attention to not smudge the glasses and only touch the frame, at least that is how these things were for himself. </p>
<p>And the way Dennis just kept rambling on about issues he deemed important: It sounded so invested but also almost absentminded, as if he wasn’t really interested if Jeff was listening or not, just continuing talking, as if getting his thoughts out was more important than actually sharing them. Was it normal for someone to talk like this? Or, to give in to a forming suspicion: Could it be that the artificial and mechanic element Dennis’ voice was carrying in those moments was a sign he wasn’t as clueless about the situation as he pretended to be, but some kind of participant? Was it normal to talk this much without caring if someone actually listened to you?</p>
<p>The nights were the worst: Pretending to feel comfortable about a situation you actually didn’t comprehend while sleeping next to a stranger. Jeff pretended to have fallen asleep quickly but actually was still wide awake while the breaths next to him would fall into the deep and somber pattern of the sleeping. </p>
<p>It was during those moments, while listening to those breaths, he considered it likely the stranger right next to him had at least to be human. Though there was no way to know for sure. Jeff reached a decision, his eyes snapping open. There was no way to know for sure, but there were ways to collect hints, he thought. Overcoming his hesitation he started to move, careful the mattress would not dip in to strongly while he slowly laid his head on Dennis’ chest. A heavy feeling of reassurance started solidifying in his mind: Hearing steady sounds of a heartbeat felt predictable. Normal. The sound was steady and strong, the rhythm and pace typical for a person sleeping, just as the pattern of his breath was fitting right in. </p>
<p>All of this still did not answer his doubts if Dennis was lying to him about the odd situation they both found themselves in. But at least it strengthened the probability of the person he found himself stuck with in his apartment being at least human. </p>
<p>Thought of course he hadn’t actual proof of that either. Slowly he started moving his head, from the chest down towards the stomach area. If you waited long enough you’d eventually hear some of the sounds those organs further below tended to make too. But even if there were sounds, that would not have been a clear conformation either. It still could be that Dennis was some kind of non-human, something sent to mess with him. It could not be ruled out; living in this place a thing like that could sometimes happen. </p>
<p>If he just could have cut the stranger’s stomach open. Maye that would have brought additional clues to check if the person he was dealing with honestly was normal or just something meant to look like it was. Jeff felt his muscles freeze into place, paradoxically due to the realization he was slowly getting overwhelmed by the warmth of the sleeping body right next to him. The thing was, if even things like warmth and heartbeat were undistinguishable from an ordinary person, then there would be a big possibility cutting the body open would not reveal any abnormalities either. Right?</p>
<p>Plus, he had not cut open anyone since he had arrived in this place. It would be better not to start with that now, not after he had succeeded resisting the urge for so long. That was the weird thing about this place, it tended to mess with bits of your memory from time to time, but for some reason it also carried an atmosphere that managed to reduce the call of temptation. Which upon further consideration, might have been directly connected. </p>
<p>No, if he could help it the best course of action would be to just try to go to sleep now, acting as if nothing about this weird situation was succeeding in disturbing him. Pretending everything was just perfectly fine even though in reality it was not. (But you know, that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.)</p>
<p>The thing that finally managed to disturb his forced calm had to do with his aquarium. It had been his last work day before the small New Year’s break would start. When he had returned home on that day, Dennis’ had been sitting in front of the aquarium. Appeared to be completely distracted by the fish, looking like he hadn’t fully registered Jeff had returned home again. </p>
<p>In hindsight, Jeff hadn’t been able to pin down why that had been, but his first impression getting confronted with that scene was that Dennis was about to hurt the fish. It would be so easy to hurt the fish. Pour a cup of motor oil into the tank and the lot of them would be done for, causing their destruction could already be as simple as that. </p>
<p>It would be so easy to hurt the fish, for it already needed effort to ensure them to stay well. You needed to consider so many things for fish to stay well: You needed to take care that the temperature in the tank would be fitting for the kind of fish living in there, you needed to ensure there wasn’t too much chalk in the water, needed to check that the pH degree was alright. And you needed to ensure there was enough oxygen in the water, so they could breathe properly: Having some plants in the aquarium was helping but mainly you needed a filter for that. Not only for the oxygen, but to ensure the little creatures would not be swimming in their own filth but had clean water to live in. And for that you also needed to clean the ground regularly and exchange the water: Not so much it was a shock of too much unfitting water to deal with, just enough to keep it refreshed. </p>
<p>And even then, even if you took good care of the aquarium staying in fitting conditions, even then bad luck could enter and make one or several of the fishes sick. Fungus getting its grasp on them for example, growing over their entire body, sometimes too fast for the medication you would pour into the tank against that to help, letting the poor fish that had fallen ill die a slow and painful death. </p>
<p>Because yes you could definitely see if a fish was suffering. Their movements would get rendered either hectic or go into the opposite and slow down completely, but in both cases you would see an expression of helpless desperation on the face of the fish. And the sad fact was that often there was not much you could do to help them, aside from pouring medication into the tank that would prevent the other fish to fall ill as well. </p>
<p>It was so easy to hurt a fish, out of a sudden he found himself rendered terrified by the idea. Whatever had taken place during the last few days with the arrival of the stranger had nothing to do with them, if the point of that confusing development was to cause harm then Jeff had it rather lingering doom would already descend upon he himself, not on the fish. </p>
<p>For one because he couldn’t stand the thought of those creatures suffering; these creatures hadn’t done anything wrong, they had just gotten the bad luck of having gotten picked in the pet store by him. For the other reason because he had taken care of this aquarium since years, had done his best to turn it into a comfortable home for the animals living in it, one of the few times he had managed to create something of lasting value instead of just keeping to destroy, destroy and then destroy some more. </p>
<p>He couldn’t stand the thought of losing his fish. </p>
<p>Dennis raised his head, looking up at him, eyes empty and dark, two hollow pools in the pale face. “I didn’t hear you. You startled me.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Try to appease, try anything so the aquarium gets left alone. </p>
<p>“It wasn’t an accusation. I just got surprised”, Dennis said, a tense smile appearing on his face. </p>
<p>Jeff walked closer, still feeling tense himself. “Oh.”</p>
<p>“The fish kept distracting me.” </p>
<p>“I’m… They’re good fish.”</p>
<p>Dennis nodded in agreement, turning his face towards the aquarium again. “Those orange ones here are so lively.”</p>
<p>“Orange molly.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Dennis leaned forward, a look of calm concentration reaching his eyes. As if he actually liked the fish. Maybe Jeff’s impression had been wrong to begin with, and Dennis held no ill intention against the fish at all. Maybe he had just misinterpreted the caution on his face. Now Jeff thought about it in concentration, Dennis would often look like that when he thought no one was looking. It was a bit hard to say with basically only having seen each other a few times in the evening. If you thought about it, they’ve known each other for less than a week. </p>
<p>Dennis pointed to a group of smaller fish swimming close to the ground. “But I think those here are my favourite.”</p>
<p>“Those are neon tetra.”</p>
<p>“Neon tetra. Yes, sure, that’s their name, isn’t it.” He turned his head, looking up at Jeff again. “Which ones do you like best?”</p>
<p>Jeff felt himself hesitate. Admitting a preference always was a vulnerability. People could take advantage of that knowledge, take away the very thing they knew you cared about most. It always felt to be the best course of action to behave indifferent, to not indicate too clearly when you felt affection towards something (or someone). But no matter how you looked at it, his entire aquarium already was a vulnerable spot anyway. And maybe his impression had been right enough after all and Dennis had no intention to harm any animal.</p>
<p>So he stepped closer, sitting down on the couch next to Dennis. “Those two blue gourami here”, he said, pointing to the two blue labyrinth fish swimming close up to the surface. </p>
<p>“They’re the biggest ones in the entire aquarium.”</p>
<p>“They are. Well, except for the catfish over there. I think he might be even bigger.”</p>
<p>“Oh, him. Yes, he is a big buddy.” Dennis leaned his chin into his hand, concentration caught by the blue labyrinth fish again. “But those are neat too. Why them though?”</p>
<p>Jeff shrugged his shoulders, looking to the side. “I like how calm they are. And how for them it’s enough to just have each other as a company.”</p>
<p>Dennis turned around, trying to meet his gaze. But Jeff wouldn’t let him, avoiding his eyes.</p>
<p>Instead he continued talking: “With fish like the molly or the neons, it’s advised to keep them in groups, so they don’t feel lonely. But for the gourami it’s already enough to just have each other.” </p>
<p>“I see.” Dennis’ voice had sounded unreadable. </p>
<p>Next to them the filter of the aquarium kept humming, silently cleaning the water. The fish looked as happy as ever. They still needed to get their dinner though. </p>
<p>Jeff suppressed a sigh. “Why do you like the neons best, actually?”</p>
<p>Dennis was looking at the aquarium again, leaving the impression he had gotten so distracted by it that he hadn’t heard the question. The light coming from the aquarium softly reflected in his eyes, giving them the colour of hot cocoa. Maybe that was something you could do during this break during deepest winter, get some hot cocoa to drink. </p>
<p>“Dennis? What do you think…”</p>
<p>He snapped his head around, fixing his eyes on Jeff. “It’s Des, not Dennis. I keep telling you.”</p>
<p>Did… did he? Well, the accusation sounded plausible enough. His number was saved under that very name in Jeff’s phone after all. “Yes… sure.”</p>
<p>“I mean it. You know how much I hate that name! And yet you keep using it”, he said, voice sounding sharp. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”</p>
<p>A reluctant shadow descended on his face, the by now familiar expression rendering his eyes back into hollow black pits. Though despite how his voice had sounded like, the empty gleam behind his eyes seemed to be more sad than angry, as if the emotion had festered since a while and refused to be contained any longer. </p>
<p>Jeff really started to feel guilty, though due to what exactly he wasn’t entirely sure. Dennis… Des hadn’t told him a single time before what he preferred to be called like. For the simple reason that until now there hadn’t been a situation Jeff had needed to call him by his name. And yet.<br/>
“You know, I saved your number under just that name on my phone. I’ll keep remembering it correctly soon, let me keep trying.” </p>
<p>The harshness around Dennis’… Des’ eyes gradually kept weakening. “Well… As long as you do remember it eventually.” He brushed his hand through his hair, keeping it away from his eyes. “Has today been stressful again? With all these visitors I mean?”</p>
<p>Jeff had to pause. He had kept complaining about how stressful work had been the entire week. He sometimes wasn’t sure if Dennis really listened all that intently to what he was saying but that he kept asking about these things had to mean something in itself, hadn’t it? “It’s been full again, yes.” Full and tense. An overly shitty atmosphere that would hopefully been gone for good once the shifts in the new year would start. </p>
<p>Des kept looking at him, wordlessly, the light from the aquarium softly reflecting in his eyes again. He had nice looking eyes when the light was just right. A rich brown without any hint of green or amber, nothing to disturb the clear darkness in it. </p>
<p>Jeff forced himself to keep looking Dennis into the eyes. “Just busy, I guess. As during any big holiday.”</p>
<p>“That’s over for now though. What’s it been, two days of a break for you now?”</p>
<p>“Three.”</p>
<p>“See. It’s over for now”, Des said, giving Jeff a smile that looked unexpectedly encouraging, giving the moody outburst that had just taken place in him. </p>
<p>It was in that moment Jeff felt his lingering doubts leave, suddenly feeling sure that the person next to him was no artificial construction but a normal person. Constructions didn’t malfunction in a manner as unpredictable as this, it was something tied to humanity. Something that felt like it had to be expected, in a sickeningly familiar way, too familiar. He felt himself freeze, eyes setting into an empty distance. </p>
<p>A voice ripped him out of his haze: “This tired, huh? Just what are they doing with you that you come home this exhausted every day?” The statement had sounded puzzled, silent, as if Des was feeling at loss. </p>
<p>“I’ll make sure to remember your name the right way. I promise”, Jeff heard himself say, giving in to a festering impulse that had built up during these last nights he had laid wide awake next to a sleeping strangeness. He leaned forward, pulling Des into a tight hug.</p>
<p>For a moment Des froze in surprise but then returned the gesture, tentatively so. As if he was afraid one wrong movement would be enough to upset Jeff. Or something. “I… I just hate that name. Hearing it practically hurts in my ear. I wish no one would know that one and just forget all about it altogether.”</p>
<p>Not for the first time the possibility entered Jeff’s mind that Des was just like him. That he was not knowing what was actually going on either. Just having enough chunks of real and constructed knowledge to get through the day. Yes, there was a big possibility Des was just as clueless as he was, Jeff thought, the awareness of the solidity and warmth of their embrace taking a painful shape. The thought was terrifying, more so than the concept of dealing with a force that had in some degree had arrived with harmful intentions. If Des was supposed to be here then that seemed to mean that he was supposed to stay. At least for the moment. All the indications of their arrangement were pointing to that. You didn’t occupy half of a closet if you meant to leave right away. Nor did you pack out your toothbrush and leave in at the sink. </p>
<p>It was Des breaking the silence between them: “You know, I used to have fish as well. Did I ever tell you about that?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t. An aquarium too then? For fresh water fish or salt water ones?”</p>
<p>“Neither. Some goldfish that were living in a pond in the garden.”</p>
<p>Now that was something entirely unfamiliar. “I know nothing about fish ponds.”</p>
<p>Des took a deep breath, the hold of his arms around Jeff getting more stable. “They have their own charm. But you can see the fish much better when they’re in a tank.”</p>
<p>“Seeing the fish is kind of the point of having them.” Jeff didn’t know what else to say. Part of him still felt suspicious about the entire situation but the other part of him was getting mesmerized of the reality of keeping a warm body close to him. It was the kind of reality that felt worthy to prevent from ever ending again. </p>
<p>He could feel Des growing tense. “You know, I wasn’t that mad. Earlier, I mean. I just got surprised”, he said, voice muffled by the closeness of their hug. </p>
<p>Still unwilling to let go Jeff moved his head, so he could lay his ear over Des’ chest, listening to his heartbeat. The rhythm was regular but fast and upset, no comparison to the calm sound it would make during sleep. “Same. I mean, I’ve gotten really surprised as well.”</p>
<p>Next to them the fish kept swimming around in their aquarium: Alive, well and looking happy enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Control the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After last chapter’s flashback, back to present-timeline events.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even the dog was sleeping. Rolled together on her sleeping blanket, the ribs of the animal were evenly rising and falling in the rhythm of her breaths. Only weeks ago she still had been a small puppy but in the meanwhile she had almost grown too big for her blanket. It was always difficult to tell with mongrel dogs, but in the meanwhile it was foreseeable Killy would turn out to be a middle sized dog, at least. Maybe Cocker Spaniel sized. Or something, Dennis thought, looking down at the phone he was holding in his hand, turning up the volume of the song he was listening to. You couldn’t compare the sound of listening to music using a phone to listening to it with a decent device build specifically for that purpose, but having music with you wherever you went was without a doubt practical. Made you feel less lonely when there was no one around to talk to. </p>
<p>Dennis grimaced. Though it was the middle of the night he had hoped the dog might have been awake. Killy sometimes would be, wandering around the flat silently, jumping on the couch and resting there when she thought no one was seeing it. But not tonight. Tonight she had rolled up peacefully on her blanket, sleeping deeply. </p>
<p>Well, there was nothing to be done then. Tonight everyone was sleeping deeply, leaving him alone in his restlessness. It was not like it was that much of a problem; the most reasonable thing to do would be for him to go back to bed and try to fall asleep again anyway. Yes, that would be the most reasonable thing, he decided. </p>
<p>He came to a halt under the doorframe, feeling his resolve crumble. His gaze got stuck on the sleeping form lying on the bed, so deeply sunk into sleep that he was completely ignoring Dennis. It was an irrational feeling to feel upset with Jeff because he was asleep and ignoring him because of this, but here they were. </p>
<p>Dennis turned off the music, pulling out the headphones, planning to put his phone aside. He should just go and try to sleep. There was no point in pondering about… well, he wasn’t even sure what was keeping him awake. There was nothing wrong exactly. Since he had arrived in this town, things constantly had taken a turn for the better. He didn’t have to live all by himself, alone. He even had a dog by his side again. </p>
<p>The problem with having gotten the dog from Cindy was that she was now acting even nosier and more curious than ever. As if she had a right to keep asking invasive questions. </p>
<p>“It’s so nice Killy is living in a lively place. Since when have you and your roommate been living together?”, she had asked, unable to hide the curiosity in her eyes. </p>
<p>Yes, Cindy, “roommates”. Those were all of the details she had gotten. Not because he had wanted to hide that he and Jeff where a couple, but because her nosiness had put him off. </p>
<p>Not that vague answers ever tended to stop Cindy: “Where did the two of you meet, actually?”, she had asked, hope flaring up in her eyes that asking an entire pile of questions would lead to her curiosity getting answered eventually. </p>
<p>It was then Des had felt his irritation flare up, putting up his best effort to hide just that. He had mumbled something vague, standing up and leaving. </p>
<p>Rolling up the headphones into a neat shape he tried to ignore the fresh flare of anger the memory had brought with it. He turned his head, looking back towards the living room, where the dog was sleeping. He shouldn’t have gotten the dog from Cindy. It hadn’t been worth it, it had turned out to be a spoiled decision ending in more of a hassle than it had brought in positivity. You could get dogs from all kind of places, he should have gotten one from somewhere else. </p>
<p>The clarity of the though startled him and the next moment he was feeling guilty. None of this was the fault of the puppy. It was not at fault for having been born the puppy of Cindy’s dog. </p>
<p>His gaze wandered towards the kitchen door. He felt like getting something to drink. He really, really felt like getting something to drink. But that would have felt like a failure. He had tried to cut down drinking lately -for the sole reason of demonstrating that he was perfectly capable to not drink if he wanted to!- and starting to drink again now would have felt like some sort of defeat. Especially because it was already pathetic enough that the Cindy incident from this afternoon had ended up keeping him awake and pondering. </p>
<p>He stepped closer to the bed. With nothing but the weak gleam the lamp on the bedside table was giving off, Jeff seemed to lie more in the shadow than in the light.</p>
<p>Des wondered when Jeff would leave him. It was tempting to think that what they had was destined to last, but reality had proven over and over again that things Des cared about didn’t care back enough to stay in his life. Sooner or later everyone left, sooner or later everything started to decay. </p>
<p>A leaden weight spread through his chest, settling into his lungs. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jeff, feeling like he had to use the opportunity of him sleeping to memorize every detail of this moment. </p>
<p>It was funny what sleep did to people. Sometimes it let them appear unrestrained, letting their features appear slack, the added absence of consciousness making them look undignified. Or it went the other way, sleep taking away the weight of their sorrows from their mind, letting a peace settle in on their features. The kind of expression that would appear as a stark contrast to the worries letting an almost constant shadow appear on their face when awake. </p>
<p>A sleeping Jeff fell into the latter category, the veil of sleep suiting him well. Seeing him like this would be one of the things Des would miss about him most once the inevitable would happen and they’d break up. </p>
<p>Des shook his head, lowering his gaze. It wouldn’t do any good getting entangled in the roads these kind of though were leading towards. He was just tired (and way too sober) and should go to sleep. </p>
<p>And yet. </p>
<p>He got aware of the weight he was still holding in his hand, remembering his phone. He started unlocking it before he had fully decided what he wanted to do next. There was no way you could preserve a moment for forever but that did not mean it was meaningless to remember it. </p>
<p>Getting the camera ready, he stepped closer to the bed, trying to find a good angle. Up this close there was enough light to put clarity on Jeff’s features, the calmness and peace it showed. Des took one picture, then another one, eyes set strictly on what the screen of the phone was showing. He was simply trying to find the best angle, the best light to make the best picture. There were moments disappearing as unexpected and as fast as they had appeared, it was only natural to try and keep a memory of them. He was trying to document the best piece representing this moment most authentically that was all there was. </p>
<p>And with the amount of tries he had made something should end up to be fitting, he decided, putting the phone away for good now, laying it on a corner far away on the bedside table. </p>
<p>And now he really would go to sleep. </p>
<p>He briskly came to a halt, gaze fixated on Jeff’s face. It looked nothing alike like the sight through the screen or the stillness of a photo. In an odd way the skin looked paler, the orange tint the lamp had cast on the hair was now lacking completely, the colour closer to the dust blond shade it would show in daylight. And though asleep, there were still those small movements indicating the body in question might have been rendered passive but wasn’t set completely unresponsive. </p>
<p>Des had tried to preserve this moment and it hadn’t worked. Not fully. For a moment he considered getting his phone and to now film what he was seeing instead of just taking pictures. Film had entirely another dynamic compared to the stillness of a photography so it might be worth a try. But feeling a leaden exhaustion setting in, he instantly dismissed the idea. Using film he would be able to catch the movement but there was still the problem of the colours not appearing right on screen. </p>
<p>Resigned he got in at his side of the bed, switching off the light. Out of nowhere he got hit with the entire weight of how much he wanted this moment to last. He didn’t want Jeff to leave. He wanted to grab and hold on to what was now, wanted to stuff it into a box to ensure it would keep the form it was showing now and couldn’t change into something rotten and ugly. </p>
<p>The urge to turn around and put his arms around Jeff arrived violently, making breathing painful. It felt like the closest he could get for now to preserve this moment, an action feeling more secure than relying on the picture the phone had taken. </p>
<p>But Des found that he couldn’t move, continued laying on his side instead, gaze set on the low gleam coming through the open door of the bedroom, just enough to see the shape and outline of the room. </p>
<p>He was still laying on his side and facing away from who he liked most when he heard a rustling sound and the clear sound of claws clacking on the floor. The dog had started moving around, judging from the sound walking into the kitchen to drink some water. Then the dog kept moving some more, not entering the bedroom though.</p>
<p>For a moment Des considered standing up and saying hello to Killy now the animal had woken up on its own. But then he didn’t do it, muscles feeling out of a sudden too heavy to do even as much as turn on his other side and expand his arms to take what he wanted to hold most. It was funny, he just didn’t feel like moving at all. So Des just kept lying still, having nothing but the darkness of the night to hold his isolation at bay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dark by Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The vague sound of roaring got louder, gradually getting clearer. Dennis’ first thought was that it might have been the eternal cycle of waves hitting the shore, but then he realized that the sound resembled more that of water rushing through pipes. </p>
<p>Either way it was not really the kind of noise you expected to encounter in a dream. Dennis looked around, the realization he was dreaming right now feeling like an exceptional occurrence. More for the reason of knowing that he actually was asleep right now than for the fact he was aware about being stuck in a dream. </p>
<p>But this feeling of disconnection only lasted for the first few moments, replaced by the special kind of ease one tends to accept even the oddest occurrence in a dream as a part of normality. So, Dennis was dreaming then. But that knowledge did little to give him any more facts about his current surroundings. For that it was too dark, the only thing clearly detectable the constant sound of moving water. The echo this place carried made it impossible to say though in what direction this mysterious water source was located though. The water was flowing and occasionally dripped on the hard ground he was standing on, puddles forming on the stony ground, their presence unknown until he had already stepped into them, in his attempt to reach the faint light gleaming in the distance. </p>
<p>He couldn’t even remember when he had started walking. </p>
<p>And the more he thought about it the more his grip on the time passing around him slipped, only distracting him from what was obviously the most sensible thing to do in this situation: Walking towards where is was brighter. And now that the light had gotten brighter, he could see that he was surrounded by some kind of brick structure. The ground he was walking on and the distant, high walls around him, everything was built out of bricks so dark they were practically black. The sense behind this structure was still hard to guess though. Only one thing looked certain, from the looks of it everything around him had to be ancient. </p>
<p>Now that he had gotten closer to the light source a disappointment hit him, together with the realization that had arrived with it. It hadn’t been a window, a door or some other opening showing a way out of this building that was causing the light, no. Instead the light was coming from a strange organism growing in the cracks of the bricks, some plant or maybe mushroom, just giving enough of a deep green glow to shed light on the endless corridors and rooms Dennis still found himself trapped in. </p>
<p>And no matter where he was looking, there was no way leading out. Only more of these bricks, building new rooms, rooms so vast and with ceilings so high that even this odd green organism wouldn’t reach them fully with its light. </p>
<p>And in all these rooms there was still the water. Flowing in artificial streams, gathering in pools, just to overflow and float on into new streams that too were build out of the black brick. </p>
<p>The sight was beginning to make Dennis sick. There was no good reason for a building to hold these kind of artificial streams that as far as he could tell, served no further meaning. If anything the water seemed to be trapped and controlled for the sheer sake of trapping and controlling it. It was nothing alike the capricious way a wild stream in nature would flow, gather in friendly ponds to serve as a home for fish and frogs before it would continue its way and arrive in the vast depths of the ocean. The ocean with the rich roaring of its waves, a sound of endless dynamic and change. So unlike the restricted dripping and hushing the brick streams in this odd building were causing, the sickly sound enhanced by the dull echo set in these rooms. </p>
<p>There was no way Dennis would stay longer in this eerie building than he needed to, so he kept going, telling himself he surely would eventually find an exit. There was no kind of structure getting built that was lacking a door leading out of it, right? Because that just would have made no sense. At all. </p>
<p>When he heard the first sound not coming from the flowing water around him or the sound of his own footsteps, he twitched together. He needed a moment to realize that what he was hearing was the sound of a voice: “Keep on going. If you stay on this way you’ll reach the exit soon.”</p>
<p>Dennis had come to a halt, only now realizing he was standing almost ankle deep in a puddle, the stale water starting to soak through his shoes. Still feeling bewildered he forced himself to move and continue his way. He considered saying something in return but then didn’t, throat still feeling leaden with shock. </p>
<p>But now that he was walking again he already started feeling better. With the clear certainty a dream scenario would sometimes bring, he knew that there was no reason to doubt what the person who had been talking to him had said. More, he was also certain the owner of the voice harbored no ill will towards him. So he continued his way through this twilight, surrounded by the blackness of the bricks and with nothing but the sickly green gleam of that organism bringing him some light for orientation. </p>
<p>Absentmindedly he raised the collar of his coat. This place was cold and damp, and it seemed to get worse the more time he was spending in here. Having nothing for orientation to rely on but the faint gleam of the mysterious plant/mushroom, he tried his best to avoid the puddles on the ground. Around him the water kept roaring, flowing in countless artificial streams, the number of pools it was gathering in seemingly endless. </p>
<p>This entire place was damp, starting with these annoying containers holding and distributing the water and continuing with the high ceiling and walls of these huge rooms which appeared to be wet too. It was annoying, incredibly annoying having to navigate a place as dark and bleak as this one. And there was still no real light in sight, only the sickly glow of that unhealthy looking organism. Whoever had built this place should have at least possessed the foresight to make room for some windows or at least should have installed a light source. For the matter of safety alone, dark as it was fate practically invited you to take a wrong step and fall into one of these ridiculous brick ponds which by the way appeared to be dangerously deep and vast. An irresponsible death trap that was what this place here was. A mindless madness with no good reason to exist. </p>
<p>Deciding to get upset about the circumstances he found himself trapped in helped to not think too deeply about the voice that had just been talking to him. But the distraction only lasted for a short time. </p>
<p>The voice. For some reason he longed to see the owner of this unfamiliar voice. Even though he could say with absolute certainty that he didn’t know who this person had been who had spoken to him. But that didn’t matter. He wanted to hear that voice again. Whoever it had been, they had sounded friendly and helpful and… he just wanted to hear that voice again. </p>
<p>He looked up at the ceiling of the vast room he had just entered, at the mass of that glowing organism growing in such a great number on its ceiling that the room could almost be called decently lit. Absentmindedly Dennis grimaced, wrinkling his nose. He was glad that this suspicious plant was giving him at least some light but he would have preferred a window and the light of day. Even the pale light of the moon would have been better than this. </p>
<p>But there was nothing that could be done about that. Shrugging his shoulders Dennis started crossing the room, not feeling confident by the fact the place was so vast he could barely see where the opening leading into the next room it was located. Could he actually be sure he was moving towards some door leading out into freedom instead of getting lost deeper inside this weird structure?</p>
<p>“No need to worry, honestly. Keep on going and then you’ll reach the outside soon again. It’s just a few more rooms now.”</p>
<p>It had been the voice! Dennis nearly tripped over his own feet, coming to a halt and looking around. Due to the echo he could not say from where that voice had been coming from and the dim light wasn’t helping either. </p>
<p>“Where are you?”</p>
<p>“Don’t stop. Stay on your way, okay?”</p>
<p>“Okay. I guess.” Reluctantly Dennis started walking on, continuing to cross this laughably vast room. If at least he’d had a torchlight with him or something. He patted down the pockets of his coat, of his trousers, looking for matches or a lighter. Being a smoker, he should have carried some with him but there were none. No cigarettes either. Nothing but that glowing organism growing on the bricks, not spending enough light to see the person who had been talking to him, only giving off enough brightness to give an idea of the shape of the room. But not bright enough to show the person who must be nearby. He wasn’t even entirely certain of the age or gender of the one who had been talking to him. Most likely a young woman or a teenage boy. Maybe. The echo of this place didn’t help figuring out only even this much.</p>
<p>“If you keep going this way, you’ll reach the exit.”</p>
<p>“I get it. I won’t stop again.” For some reason the voice seemed to be rather worried by the prospect of Dennis staying in one place for too long. </p>
<p>The voice hesitated. “But, you know. It was nice seeing you stopping by for a while. No one bothered to come here for such a long time.” </p>
<p>Now Dennis could definitely say that the owner of the voice had to be male. And it had to be someone rather young, teenager seemed to have been the correct first impression then. Minding to keep moving Dennis turned his head, attention caught by the ponds and pools built out of brick next to him. Over at that side of the room no one was standing there either. No matter how carefully he searched and looked, he just couldn’t find the owner of the voice. And that thought more than ever he wanted to see him so badly, the longing in his chest having formed into something heavy and sharp. </p>
<p>Damn it. “Where are you? And why can’t I see you? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to worry about me. The exit is super close now, make sure to keep walking.”</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Hesitation. “You can call me Des, by the way. What’s your name?”</p>
<p>The only answer he got was a heavy silence, broken only by the mechanical roaring of the water next to him, the sound almost ringing painfully in his ears. </p>
<p>“Don’t waste your time worrying about me”, the voice finally said, sounding empty and hollow with insincerity. </p>
<p>In a lack of a better alternative Des quickened the pace of his steps, feeling that following the advice of the voice to leave this place fast would be the most sensible thing to do. For now. “Who are you? And why can’t we see each other?”</p>
<p>“I am myself. And you’re misunderstanding. It’s not that I don’t want to see you. I would if I could, but right now I’m not able to. I’m sorry.” The dull insincerity from earlier had left the owner of the voice. Now he was sounding quiet and resigned.</p>
<p>“Is there something I can do to help?”</p>
<p>“Not to my knowledge, no. There is nothing that can be done. But thank you anyway.”</p>
<p>Des suppressed a sigh, feeling more and more upset by the situation. Chunks of knowledge appeared in his mind, the circumstances of the dream giving him the clear certainty the person he was talking to had been stuck in this building for a very long time. That he had been held in this place against his will, unable to leave, trapped by merciless forces holding him into place. </p>
<p>“Isn’t there anything I can do?”, Des asked, feeling his determination grow. There had to be something, right? This place was so bleak and suffocating, gloomy darkness with nothing but the sickly glow of the organism and the dark brick creating an unbearable atmosphere. If Des was already starting to feel his mind getting weighed down by the surroundings, how much worse must the experience for the boy be who had been trapped in here since aeons. </p>
<p>The voice continued talking: “I really wouldn’t know what could be done now. Since I’ve been brought here, I haven’t been able to change. I’ve ran out of ideas and then out of options. And I can’t come up with dreams anymore either.”</p>
<p>Dennis huffed. Yes, lacking dreams the boy wouldn’t be able to leave this place. He knew this due to another clarification the dream had offered to his mind. “Listen, this is ridiculous. From what I have seen this place is a dark and noisy death trap. People can’t be asked to spend more time in here than absolutely necessary. I tell you what we do: I give you my dream, get myself a new one and then we leave this place.” Should work. </p>
<p>“I… you want to give me your dream?” The boy had sounded completely perplexed. As if he hadn’t even considered Dennis would suggest this option. The lad clearly hadn’t been fishing for sympathy then, right, this made this entire exchange even more valuable then. Meaningful. Solid. Important. </p>
<p>“If you want to have it it’s all yours.” No big deal. If a dream was all it took. He could come up anytime with a new one for himself. And as it was obvious that the lack of an own dream was trapping this boy in this creepy building, it was only right to offer him Dennis’ current one. </p>
<p>“If it really is alright I’d like to take your dream then.”</p>
<p>“Everything is fine, take it. It’s all yours now.” </p>
<p>“Thank you!”</p>
<p>Dennis could come up with new dreams any time. And further, if he was honest, that hadn’t been all. The question of wanting to help aside, Dennis still wanted to meet the owner of this voice so badly. Even though more than ever Dennis was sure he had never met him, he could almost picture him in his mind: Tall, probably even taller than he himself. And though he could not say what the exact features on the stranger’s face might look like, the gleam behind his eyes would be one of resigned sadness. </p>
<p>And once they would have been out of this brick building, away from these artificial pools and streams, Dennis would take the boy to the sea. To remind him how water could look like in a place it was supposed to be, how different it sounded and smelled when it could behave in a shape that gave it enough room and space instead of how it looked when being trapping into place.</p>
<p>The sea could be so beautiful. It was nothing alike these confining brick pools. </p>
<p>Dennis knew now that he had almost reached the exit of this place. He only needed to cross a few more rooms and then he would be out of this ghastly place. He could practically feel the promise of daylight that would show up for real any moment now. He addressed the stranger: “So, that means you can come with me and leave now too, right?” Surely with the dream he had been lacking until now the boy would now be able to manifest his body again. </p>
<p>A directionless dread started spreading through Dennis’ chest before the boy started talking, his hesitant voice only a confirmation of what Dennis’ had actually known all along: “I’d love to. I really do, especially after you have been this kind to give me your own dream. But I’m still not sure if I’m able to already. I’ve been here for so long and all this water made it impossible to leave.”</p>
<p>“I see. Of course”, Dennis said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>He wasn’t blaming the boy. He really wasn’t! He could see that it wasn’t his fault. Having been held in this dark place with not even as much as the possibility to dream, it was quite logical he wouldn’t be able to leave already. Things like these needed time. But still… Dennis had hoped so much. Had hoped ripping out his own dream, giving it away and replacing it with something fresh would have been enough so they could leave together. </p>
<p>But it hadn’t been enough. Of course not. He had been a fool assuming anything else. Because no matter how much effort he put into something, things outside of his control would eventually get into the way. Leaving him alone and abandoned, even when right next to someone who wanted to continue their way with him. </p>
<p>It wasn’t fair. And it hurt. Especially now he could see the first traces of daylight. Slowing down his steps Dennis turned his head, looking towards the direction he suspected the voice coming from. If the boy couldn’t leave on his own yet, well, then Dennis just needed to think of a solution to take the owner of the voice with him. </p>
<p>Dennis was still standing in one of the brick rooms of the building when he got aware that he was entering the process of waking up. Drips of awareness entered his mind, getting stronger. </p>
<p>In the dream it had been cold. Now it was still cold, but a different kind. The indifferent lack of warmth found in nights at the end of summer, when the heat of the day no longer had the strength to reach the night. With his mind springing into clear awareness the last traces of feeling connected to the dream disappeared entirely, leaving him with nothing but the memory of it. </p>
<p>Right, waking up, he obviously had been sleeping. Dennis felt he should be aware of more but the last traces of sleep where still tying his mind down. The recollection of the dream was already fading, even though he tried holding on to it. </p>
<p>He cracked his eyes open, only to be met with darkness. It was still the middle of the night. A glance at the clock displaying the time in glowing green numbers confirmed that he had slept only a few hours. With the lack of peace he had felt during the last few hours, time had started to feel endless. He suppressed an exhausted sigh, despite his restless mood trying to not wake up Jeff, starting to grow oddly aware of the sleeping figure lying right next to him. There were states of agony that felt safer to endure on your own and for some reason waking up from a bewildering dream was one of it. </p>
<p>And anyway. It was the middle of the night after all. It would be wise to try and fall asleep again, Dennis decided. But his mind was unable to find peace. Instead he kept staring at the time displayed by the clock, unsuccessfully trying to remember what it was he had just dreamt about, the vague feeling solidifying that he had forgotten something important.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. I Don’t Know Either, Just Keep Walking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you sure they’re in here?”</p>
<p>“Yes. They have to be.”</p>
<p>Dennis glanced at the filing cabinets three rows further down, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice. “I thought ‘M’ is supposed to be over there?”</p>
<p>Cindy shook her head, a resolute gleam flaring up behind her grey eyes. “Supposed to be, yes. But some of the stuff older than ten years eventually got moved over here. To make space for the newer reports.”</p>
<p>“That is messy and doesn’t make any sense.”</p>
<p>“Well, it doesn’t”, she agreed, scrunching up her nose. When she continued talking her voice sounded tense: “I keep telling you some of the cabinet labels don’t make sense anymore.”</p>
<p>Dennis sighed. They didn’t make sense, which made fetching documents from the archive rather difficult at times. Pointlessly difficult. Who kept moving entire stacks of files without updating the cabinet labels as well? Without Cindy, who had worked here much longer than Dennis, finding the stack of files that management had requested would have taken even longer.</p>
<p>“I suggested tidying up everything in here from scratch. As in, offering to do it myself. But the section doesn’t want to get anything cleaned up until new cabinets are ordered”, Cindy said.</p>
<p>Of course they didn’t want to. Convoluted idiots. Dennis held back a comment. They had wasted the better part of the afternoon in here and throwing in more negativity on top of that wouldn’t help. Yes, trying to reduce negativity made sense sometimes. Probably. “Nothing left as to keep looking then. Memento documentation”, he said, stating the obvious.</p>
<p>“Hm.” Cindy nodded, still having that odd tension in her voice. As if there was something lingering on her mind.</p>
<p>It didn’t come as a surprise when she cleared her throat: “Well, about those files. Des? Don’t you think it is kind of strange?”</p>
<p>Strange? Nothing, absolutely nothing in here was strange. He continued flipping through the cabinet’s files, refusing to meet her gaze. “I don’t know what you mean, Cindy.”</p>
<p>“Well, I…” She trailed off, staring at the door. Despite his reluctance to continue the conversation, Dennis found himself checking if it was still closed as well. The noise isolation in this building was good but if you found yourself talking while having forgotten that the door was still open, well, then nothing could be done about that.</p>
<p>Cindy continued in a hushed voice. “Collecting nightmares and assessing them? You don’t think that’s a strange thing to do?”</p>
<p>Dennis made a point to sound casual. “Complex ones are suited to generate energy. That’s why we need to analyse them in the first place.” Not much different to how a nuclear power plant was working. Apparently. At least the physics behind it sounded to be quite similar. Only that with this energy source here there was less of a chance of accidents of fatal nature occurring. Practical. Clean. Safe. Technology advanced in surprising ways. No need to question this.</p>
<p>“Well, I think it’s strange!”, Cindy insisted, voice a hushed hiss. “There were lots of water plants and some nuclear plants to win energy in the place I used to live before… well, where I used to live. And here they use nightmares? I’m sorry, but this sounds like utter nonsense!”</p>
<p>“Advanced technology usually does sound a bit complicated. Doesn’t mean it is nonsense. Or are you an engineer and in a state to judge how this works?”</p>
<p>“No but…”</p>
<p>“Well, there you have your answer”, Dennis said, trying to keep his voice even, nervously glancing at the door. Why did Cindy need to bring this up now? What was the use? “You are making this too complicated. We’re just the guys who deal with the paperwork. You get what I want to say with this?”</p>
<p>Cindy stayed silent, glaring at him with puzzled disbelieve.</p>
<p>Dennis felt his irritation flare up, panicked and sharp. “I mean, I’m not an engineer either. But you know, people find ways to generate energy somehow. Technology advances. Come on, let’s keep looking for that file.”</p>
<p>But Cindy didn’t move, looking like she was searching for words. “I just mean... It’s not only the power plant. It’s all the other things too. I’ve never seen people with horns before either.”</p>
<p>“It’s rude to judge people based on their appearance.” He kept telling her.</p>
<p>“I’m not judging anyone! I’m just saying I’ve never seen a thing like this before. So, what is up with it? Why is it wrong wanting to know that? And have you seen what’s up with the tiles they use in the town square? I just think that…”</p>
<p>“Cindy? Would you please be so considerate and shut the fuck UP ALREADY?” He hadn’t known that it was possible to whisper and shout at the same time and yet his voice had managed to do just that.</p>
<p>She stared at him with widened eyes, looking shocked. And hurt. Great, was that supposed to be his fault now too, or what? Why hadn’t she just been able to take a hint and stop addressing these things? Things that weren’t in need of getting addressed to begin with because nothing whatsoever was odd about them anyway. And even if they would have been a bit strange, what was the point in risking getting the wrong sort of attention by raising a fuss? Why couldn’t Cindy just stop to keep poking? Why couldn’t that dense cow get a hint? Everything around them was fine enough but maybe it would no longer be if you insisted acting like a nosy idiot about it.</p>
<p>Golden specks of dust were floating in the air, disturbed by the cabinets getting rummaged through all afternoon, illuminated by the sun streaming in through a small window. The archive was the darkest room in the building but sometimes, if the angle of the sun was right, direct light would stream in through the tiny window.</p>
<p>She lowered her head, the move causing her black hair to fall into her face. Aimlessly she kept shuffling though the stack of files she was in the process of checking. “I just wanted to know if maybe you think that these things look sort of odd too. No one I talk to about it seems to think there is anything wrong with and I thought asking someone new… Look, it’s not important. Really. I was just doing some pointless conversation. Forget it.”</p>
<p>Great. Now she had sounded hurt too. Alright, maybe snapping at her like this hadn’t been necessary. It was not like he had wanted to be mean to her. It was just that… Her going on and on about this stuff had made him panic. They were alone in the archive but you never knew who could walk in through the door the next moment. He kept shuffling through his own stack of files, becoming aware of the tension growing denser between them. Bloody hell!</p>
<p>“Cindy? You know what?”</p>
<p>“Hm?” She raised her head, not quite looking him into the eyes.</p>
<p>“I say this out of experience: Getting overly invested, no, more, getting involved where you’re not wanted isn’t worth the hassle.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“No, I mean it. I used to volunteer in union work.”</p>
<p>She stayed silent, finally meeting his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m not saying it’s a useless thing to do. But the way these things tend to go… you know. If you make sure things work the way they’re supposed to then you won’t hear much of a thank you. But the moment there’s some problem everyone’s quick to blame you.”</p>
<p>She huffed, not looking convinced. “Maybe I want to make sure things work out properly for my own sake.”</p>
<p>Now that had not sounded overly defensive at all. “If you’ll expect people to be thankful for it, you’ll be disappointed. That’s really all I wanted to say.”</p>
<p>“I’m not expecting anyone to be thankful to me. For anything”, she said, holding his gaze.</p>
<p>He felt a lopsided smile descend on his face. Briskly he adjusted his glasses. “I wasn’t implying you do. I’m just saying, it’s a thankless task. Even if you feel strongly about it.”</p>
<p>Cindy huffed, continuing to shuffle through her stack. “While we’re at it: I don’t think there are any unions here.”</p>
<p>“There aren’t. I checked.”</p>
<p>“Why? You thought of volunteering again anyway?”</p>
<p>“No. I just wanted to check.”</p>
<p>She looked up, giving him a questioning gaze. The hurt gleam behind her eyes had almost vanished.</p>
<p>“It’s good to be aware about your surroundings”, he clarified.</p>
<p>“I guess”, she said, nodding in agreement. When she continued talking, her voice sounded thoughtful: “I only somewhat recently finished my training for accounting, you know?”</p>
<p>“Really? What did you use to do before?”</p>
<p>“I used to be a secretary. In real estate.”</p>
<p>“Real estate?” Dennis had to pause. Some part in him just refused to get used to the concept of what he just had heard. “It’s so different from what we’re doing here.”</p>
<p>Cindy laughed. “Yes. But I actually liked it. It was a small company with only four people, me included. We were responsible for all kinds of different property: From farmland that someone wanted to sell to houses or flats – So you met lots of different people.”</p>
<p>“I see.”</p>
<p>The look in her eyes got distant. “I always loved numbers. And now I can work with numbers. I guess it’s not bad like this.”</p>
<p>Dennis didn’t ask what had made her change career paths. Not when they had finally arrived at a subject of conversation that felt less dangerous.</p>
<p>Because honestly, it was not bad like this. Once this unnerving afternoon would be over he had a place to go home to – a place where he didn’t have to be alone. He wasn’t alone anymore. It was not bad like this at all.</p><hr/>
<p>He wasn’t alone anymore and it wasn’t bad like this at all, Des thought, petting the dog who was now lying on his lap, Killy now all calm that she already had been on a long walk this afternoon: Jeff usually took her out on the free afternoons he would have before his schedule changed to the nightshifts. It was not like he would have needed to; Des had kept his promise to look after the dog himself after spontaneously bringing her home. Yet Jeff did everything for the dog anyway.</p>
<p>Des stared at the screen of the TV in front of him, making an effort to order his thought: “What’s that movie called again?”, he asked, honestly unable to place the horror movie that already had been playing when he had arrived back home.</p>
<p>If Jeff minded Des making noise while his movie was still playing, he didn’t show it: “Lake Mungo.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“It’s an Australian movie.”</p>
<p>“I see.” Dennis had been able to figure out as much. With the girl burying her cell phone in the outback when she still had been alive and everything. In his lap the dog began to stir, hopping back on the floor and trotting into the kitchen. Maybe Killy was still thirsty after being outdoors all afternoon. It would be reasonable. Dogs needed their daily walk and went thirsty right after, no matter where you were living exactly. Dogs were very stable and reliable like that. “I still don’t quite get it though. Is it supposed to be based on a real case?”</p>
<p>The question made Jeff turn his head around, away from the screen. He still didn’t seem to be bothered Dennis kept distracting him. If the situation would have been reversed, Des would have snapped at him to keep silent already moments ago. But when Jeff started talking he sounded as patient as he looked: “No, it’s a mockumentary. Making the movie look like a documentary is only their way to tell the story.”</p>
<p>“I know it’s one. But I mean, is it still based on a real case? Or on an urban legend, that kind of thing I mean.”</p>
<p>Now Jeff really looked at loss. “I don’t think so.”</p>
<p>“I see”, Des said, silently promising himself to really be silent now. If he was honest, he didn’t really know about what else he should have continued talking right now anyway. He just felt the urge to say something for the sake of saying something to Jeff. Actually, with how things were, he could barely manage to concentrate on the movie playing in front of him. Instead he found himself to keep glancing over at Jeff. In the pale light of the evening sun his hair had that dust blond shade that looked so oddly muted. As if a stronger source had been washed out and the end result was now drained, leaving a gentle shade. So different of how it looked in bright sunlight or in shrill neon light.</p>
<p>For some weird reason Des felt he was noticing all of this for the first time. Which couldn’t be: There had been years he had been given the opportunity to ponder over how to exactly define the colour of Jeff’s hair. Or so.</p>
<p>Despite missing several of the finer details he at least had enough concentration left to get the ending of the movie: “Poor girl. People didn’t even pay attention to her when she had become a ghost.”</p>
<p>Jeff turned off the TV, showing a joyless smile that looked very absentminded. “No. Instead everyone just kept using her memory. It gets me every time.”</p>
<p>Des didn’t ask how many times Jeff had seen this movie. He went instead to the question hovering above it all: “That makes me wonder: You watch so many horror movies: Why horror movies?”</p>
<p>Jeff’s eyes widened in surprise. He straightened his back, face becoming blank. “I just find them interesting, I guess.”</p>
<p>Des felt a dull panic settle into his chest. No matter what he tried to say, in the end it never amounted into anything of substance. What other conclusion was he supposed to make when asking harmless questions like this one constantly got met with so much hostility? What good was it to no longer be alone when everything about your surroundings still made you feel this achingly lonely? And it just wouldn’t stop. Since around Christmas Jeff had gotten so weirdly distant around him at times and Des had no idea why. If it was due to something he had done then he honestly couldn’t figure out the reason.</p>
<p>He decided to act as if he didn’t mind: “I was just wondering because I’ve never heard of that movie.”</p>
<p>The cautious shadow over Jeff’s eyes slowly started fading: “I… now that I think about it, I think I go it recommended somewhere.”</p>
<p>“I just mean, it was a good movie. You’d think it would be wider known.”</p>
<p>The comment let Jeff smile, slightly. “Yeah. I guess.”</p>
<p>Des guessed so too. For the sole reason that line of conversation was lessening the leaden distance descending between them that seemed to show up at the oddest times. He still didn’t know what it was with Jeff liking horror movies, but whatever. It was not like him asking about it seemed to be welcome.</p>
<p>Jeff took a deep breath, eyes starting to look thoughtful. “I just remembered: I’ve forgot something.” He stood up, walking towards the entrance, rummaging through the pockets of his jacket.</p>
<p>Hearing this Des couldn’t help but to feel sceptical. “You forgot something?”</p>
<p>Jeff returned, his smile from before now looking clear and sheepish. “I did! I’ve got something for you”, he said, sitting down next to Dennis again. (Sitting much closer to him than where he had been on the couch while watching the movie.) He held up some brightly coloured cube. “For you!”</p>
<p>Des took the carton box, now seeing that the brightly coloured spots on it were drawings of dinosaurs. “Dinosaur Egg”, Des said, reading out the words printed on it.</p>
<p>“It’s our most popular item in the gift shop.” Jeff adjusted his glasses, the movement causing an odd sunray to fall on the glasses so his eyes were now hidden away by two pale voids. “And I’ve kept thinking it would actually be something for you too.”</p>
<p>“Thank you”, Des mumbled, opening the box. Inside of it was a plastic egg you were supposed to open. Like a Kinder Egg, only without the chocolate. Inside of the egg was the figurine of a dinosaur. Des picked it up, eying it carefully. An adorable little dinosaur. Some kind standing on its hind legs, showing a friendly face. “Iguanodon” the printed leaflet inside the egg clarified. “Aw, he looks adorable. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“I thought you might like it. I mean, it seemed to fit because you’re a critter person.” The last word had been spoken out with a hesitant affection, lacking the badly hidden ridicule Des was tended to hear when people called him that.</p>
<p>“Guess I am”, Des confirmed, gripping the figurine tighter into his hand.</p>
<p>“You like it then? I wasn’t sure?”</p>
<p>Des heard himself mumble an answer, just in time before the leaden weight descending on his throat made it impossible to speak. Of course he had liked it. The little plastic dinosaur he was still holding in his hand was real. Solid proof Jeff had been thinking about him.</p>
<p>The rows of filing cabinets from this afternoon showed up in front of his inner eye, out of a sudden. The memory made him almost feel ill. Forget Cindy and her nosy observations. If she wanted to waste her time like this that was on her. Des on the other hand would make sure to stay away instead of getting pulled into something stupid.</p>
<p>After all there was nothing strange going on around him at all.</p>
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